


Push Me, Pull You

by shoebox_addict



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoebox_addict/pseuds/shoebox_addict
Summary: In the twenty-four hours following the full moon, Remus and Sirius play a familiar game of tug of war.





	Push Me, Pull You

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to magnafrisia, whose beautiful piece of artwork served as the inspiration for this piece. I love this art so much, and I hope I've done it justice through this story. Thanks, also, to the WSBB mods!

[ ](https://ibb.co/SdGmBmB)

 

_April, 1977_

There is a moment of fear in Remus’ eye that comes just before his body contorts and his bones move into the shape of the wolf. In recent months, when that moment arrives, Remus searches for Sirius. It’s not an imagined reaction, it’s more than a simple shift of the eye. The fear grips him, and his head turns to wherever Sirius happens to be. Sirius hasn’t mentioned this to Remus. He wants to keep it to himself as the tiniest shred of evidence that what he and Remus have runs deep. 

Sirius has other moments, but they are all in his head. On mornings when Remus chooses to stay in bed with him rather than go downstairs for breakfast, Sirius takes this as assurance that Remus wants to be with him. It could just as easily be that Remus is too tired, or that the comfort of his bed outweighs his hunger. When Remus joins him in the Astronomy Tower, Sirius imagines that he asked around the castle looking for him. It is just as likely that Remus wanted a fag, and he knew Sirius always has some. 

But the way Remus seeks reassurance on the full moon is unquestionable. Perhaps he could look to James or Peter in that moment, but Sirius thinks he doesn’t have a choice. This is something innate, animalistic, tied to the way the moon pulls at him. Remus needs him in that moment, and Sirius is more than happy to give what he can. 

That month is not exactly a joyous romp, but it could be much worse. In the middle of the night, the wolf strays too close to Hogsmeade, skirting the edges of the forest, and Sirius is forced to fight him back into the trees. The guilt of these scuffles used to eat away at Sirius in the hours after sunrise, but Remus had set him straight about that. He’d made it crystal clear that whatever Sirius had to do on the full moon was forgiven; it was in everyone’s best interest that the wolf be kept in check. 

Still, when Remus is back in his human form, lying on the old shredded mattress in the Shrieking Shack, Sirius catches sight of an angry scratch along his shoulder and winces. He did that to Remus. The paradox circles his brain regularly -- sometimes it was necessary to hurt the person he loved most to keep him safe.

“You know it was for the best,” says James, from across the room. “And he knows it, too.”

Leave it to James to be constantly reading his thoughts. If Sirius didn’t know better, he’d say that James was a highly skilled Legilimens. But it had much more to do with a bordering-on-unhealthy codependency fostered over many years.

“Poor Moony,” says Peter as he pulls his shirt back over his head. “Though I don’t think he ate anything this time, so hopefully he won’t be sick.”

Sirius nods. “I’m gonna stay with him and make sure he’s all right. You two can go on.”

Peter gives him a knowing smirk, which has been his general reaction to the news that two of his best friends are more than friends. Sirius doesn’t have the energy to explain to him that he and Remus likely won’t be shagging right here, as soon as they’re alone.

James simply nods. “You’re going to miss breakfast. I’ll steal something for you both.”

“Thanks,” says Sirius. “See you guys later.”

When James and Peter are gone, Sirius lies down beside Remus and turns to look at him. Though the sun is up now, it’s still dark in the Shack. Sirius knows they only have a short time before Madam Pomfrey comes looking for Remus. It has been her long-standing policy to check on Remus if he doesn’t appear in the Hospital Wing within an hour of sunrise. Sirius remembers several mornings when Remus simply couldn’t make it to the castle on his own. They all waited with him then, hiding at the last minute when they heard Madam Pomfrey coming down the tunnel from the Whomping Willow. 

Sirius is wondering whether to wake Remus up when the boy beside him stretches suddenly, nearly knocking Sirius off the mattress. He manages to dodge the rogue limbs and shifts away as Remus lets out a groan and a sigh. Sirius watches his face twist into a grimace, then relax into annoyance that it’s morning and he has to start a new day. That’s a good sign -- that annoyance is something Sirius sees nearly every day. Surely it means that Remus hasn’t injured himself too grievously this month.

“Hey, I’m here,” says Sirius, because Remus hasn’t yet opened his eyes.

“I can smell you,” says Remus, with a smirk. “I’m always astonished at how long the smell of dog lingers.”

Sirius chuckles. “Well, you’ve never complained.”

Remus opens his eyes slowly, and Sirius can clearly see fatigue and pain there. As Remus shifts, he sucks in a breath and shuts his eyes again, reaching back to gently probe at his shoulder. Sirius’ heart sinks; he’d hoped the scratch wouldn’t be too bad.

“Er, that was me,” he says. “We nearly lost you at Hogsmeade.”

Remus nods, teeth gritted as he wipes blood on the mattress and moves his shoulder experimentally. “I’ve had much worse, as you well know.”

“How are you feeling aside from the scratch?”

“Surprisingly good,” says Remus. “I should probably get back to the castle.”

Sirius moves back as Remus pulls himself up, a wrinkle of pain passing along his brow. He props himself up on one arm and uses his free hand to rub at his eyes. His hair is damp from sweat and matted against his forehead. Long slashes of scars run across his chest in all directions. Sirius sits up beside him, then turns and kisses him gently. Remus melts into him, bringing his hand up to Sirius’ jaw. When they come apart, Remus looks at him and bites his lip like he wants to say something, but he remains silent.

“Right,” says Sirius. He rubs his thumb against Remus’ collarbone before sliding off the bed, feet hitting the rough wooden floor. He pulls on his discarded trainers, gives Remus a wave, and then heads out toward the tunnel.

*************

Remus hates mornings. Through some annoying transitive property, he’s come to associate all mornings with the hundreds of after-the-full-moon mornings he’s experienced. He sometimes wonders if he’d enjoy mornings if they didn’t make him think of waking up in the forest in Wales, cold and waiting for his dad to come find him. Lyall always came quickly, but the wait felt like an eternity to eight-year-old Remus.

Of course, now he is almost never alone when he wakes up. After the full moon, his friends are there, and Sirius is with him every other morning. The only time he cracks open his eyes to find he can stretch his legs across the bed unimpeded is when Sirius has to get up early for Quidditch practice. He’s grateful for the company, so grateful, but he still hates mornings. 

After Sirius leaves, Remus takes a moment to experience the pain he was hiding from him. He lays back down and presses his cheek against the old mattress. It smells mostly of boy sweat, with just a hint of the rose shampoo Sirius uses. Remus flexes his shoulder slowly, feeling every bit of the torn skin, breathing deeply through the sharp pangs. At least this is easy to pass off as self inflicted. This is far simpler to explain than the antler-shaped bruises on his chest several months back. 

When the worst of it has passed, or when Remus’ brain has made peace with it, he’s able to get up off the bed. His clothes are folded neatly where he left them the previous night, and he takes his time getting dressed. Each movement costs him energy, of which he has precious little. As long as he can make it back to the castle, Madam Pomfrey can sort out his shoulder and he can go back to the dormitory to try and sleep this off. 

As Remus edges through the tunnel, dodges the willow’s branches, and makes his way across the castle’s great lawn, he daydreams of his bed. His sheets smell of boy sweat and rose shampoo, too, but at least they aren’t tattered and torn. Though he knows it’s a silly thought, he can’t help imagining Sirius there with him, wasting the morning and making his bed warmer. This has been happening more frequently, since he and Sirius finally made it official and wrestled each other into the broom closet on the fourth floor. But Remus keeps expecting it to end.

The closer he gets to the castle, the more students Remus passes. But he has perfected the art of remaining unnoticed, ducking his head and sliding by and trying not to think about the conspicuous blood stains that are surely on display. It’s his firmly held belief that if he doesn’t see them, they won’t notice him. He’s so good at this, in fact, that he walks right past Sirius, who is standing in the entrance hall, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hey!”

Remus turns, surprised to see Sirius hurrying up to him. “Why aren’t you at breakfast? You’ll be starving by mid-afternoon.”

Sirius waves him off. “James said he’ll steal something for us. I just wanted to make sure you made it back.”

Remus nods. “Of course, I’m fine. Now, really, go on to breakfast. I probably won’t join you, though. My bed is calling my name, and that’s where I plan to go as soon as I’m dismissed by Madam Pomfrey.”

Sirius hesitates, caught in a moment of indecision. Then he blurts out, “I’ll wait for you. Nothing important is happening today anyway. We can waste the day together. I mean, if you want to.”

As is always the case when Sirius suggests something like this, Remus’ brain responds in a two-stage process. First comes the rush of warmth and gratitude that someone, let alone Sirius, wants to comfort him after the full moon. However, this is swiftly followed by a surge of doubt and guilt. Surely Sirius is suggesting this because he feels like he has to, because Remus has just been through a transformation. Why should he be the reason Sirius misses class?

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” says Remus. He knows that Sirius won’t be dissuaded -- he’s tried to refuse the offer before -- but he also doesn’t want to seem too eager. 

Sirius gives him a gentle smile, then gestures for Remus to go first. As Remus heads in the direction of the Hospital Wing, Sirius falls in line beside him. Remus has the distinct impression that Sirius wants to hold his hand. The thought makes his palms sweat, but in a pleasant way.

*************

Sirius waits outside the Hospital Wing, not having any real way to measure time. Remus wears a watch but it stops working as soon as the train pulls into Hogsmeade Station. Sirius teases him about it, but he happens to find it adorable that Remus still puts it on each morning. He’s even wearing it now; it laid atop his pile of clothing all night as he romped around the forest with his friends. Sirius is certain that if people knew Remus was a werewolf, their opinions on werewolves in general would change. Sure, there’s that one night each month. But the rest of the time they’re probably someone who wears a stopped watch out of habit.

Though he presses his ear against the heavy wooden door, Sirius can’t hear anything. It’s a foolish gesture -- the door is far too thick -- but it’s something for Sirius to do while his mind runs wild. He can’t help thinking that Remus’ shoulder is hurting him more than he’s letting on, and he hopes he hasn’t caused another scar. Every other day of the month Sirius feels so sure of himself when he’s around Remus. Their easy banter and stolen glances fill him up and cause the swagger that everyone thinks comes naturally. But after the full moon, he doesn’t know where they stand, and he’s afraid of hurting Remus with every touch. 

They haven’t talked about this, though Sirius has wanted to. Whenever he tries to bring it up, Remus pulls a face and says there’s no reason to feel strange around him. Sirius thinks he could get past it all if they just had a proper chat about it, but he also knows Remus is right. There’s no reason for him to feel this way, and he doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. The conflicting beliefs jump across his brain until he wants to plunk his head against the Hospital Wing door. 

Just as he’s contemplating this move, Sirius sees James making his way down the hall with a parcel in one hand and his books under his arm. His hair is wild, as always, and the sun is glinting off his eyeglasses. 

James holds out the parcel and grins. “Sustenance! Toast with butter and jam, a cherry danish, and most of a full English. So be careful when you open this, because it’s all magically sealed, but you never know. I wanted to bring you some tea, but portability is not tea’s strong suit. Anyway, I figure you can put something together up in the dorm. I know Moony’s got a stash of tea bags somewhere up there.”

Sirius shakes his head in disbelief as he takes the parcel. “James Potter, you’ve inherited your mother’s hospitality.”

James shrugs, and Sirius swears he’s blushing. “You both need rest and a good breakfast.”

“What about you?” Sirius asks. He doesn’t miss the dark circles under James’ eyes.

“I’ve had a good breakfast,” says James, avoiding Sirius’ eyes.

“You were up all night too, you know. Don’t run yourself ragged today.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” says James, waving him off. “Pete mentioned something about wanting a nap at lunchtime, but I’ll keep him away from the dorm. Just take the whole day, it’s fine.”

Sirius is continuously surprised by how supportive James has been of the whole I’m-snogging-Remus-now situation. He shouldn't be, of course, because James Potter has been his number one supporter since about ten minutes after they met on the Hogwarts Express, even though Sirius knows he was a horrible pureblood toerag when they first spoke. And he’s been fiercely protective of Remus ever since they all figured out his secret. So it logically follows that he would want the two of them to be happy together. Still, the small gestures always surprise him, and Sirius is cataloging them all to one day talk James up to Evans. 

“Listen, you can see my class notes tonight,” says James. “And I’ll ask Evans about notes from Charms. You know, for Remus.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sirius, winking at him. “You could stretch that into a fifteen-minute conversation if you try hard enough.”

“I just know how much Remus enjoys Charms,” says James, and now he’s definitely blushing. 

“Oh, yeah,” says Sirius. “About as much as you enjoy admiring Evans’ freckles.”

“Right, so, tell Remus I hope he feels better,” says James, already walking away. “Take care of yourself.”

“Later, mate,” says Sirius, chuckling to himself as James breaks into a jog.

Moments after James disappears around the corner, the big Hospital Wing door creaks open and Remus emerges, looking a bit stiff. He puts on a brave face, but Sirius can tell that he’s hurting. 

“Bandage,” says Remus, gesturing towards his shoulder. “And some kind of magical salve that smelled like death. But Madam Pomfrey swears it’ll stop a scar from forming. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

All Sirius can do is nod as another wave of guilt washes over him. But he mentally slaps himself and tries to ignore the urge to treat Remus as though he’s made of glass. He holds out the parcel from James, “We’ve got some breakfast. What do you say we head upstairs?”

“I’m ravenous,” says Remus, and they head off down the hall together. “I should have told you to come in as soon as James brought the food.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt,” says Sirius. “The sooner you’re finished in there, the sooner you can bloody well lie down.”

Remus nods and goes quiet as they make their way to Gryffindor Tower. Most students are in class, so the hallways are fairly empty. They’ve made it up two staircases without seeing another student, so Sirius decides it’s safe and reaches over to take Remus’ hand. Remus looks at him, surprised, but lets it happen. At first Remus seems embarrassed, but then he rubs his thumb against Sirius’ hand and smiles at him. Sirius feels like he could fly up the next set of steps.

Finally they reach the tower, and the portrait, and all that’s left is the Common Room. When they get to the dorm, Sirius can tell that Remus wants to flop down on his bed and remain wherever he lands. But instead, he eases himself down and settles onto his right side, so as to avoid his injured shoulder. 

“Did Madam Pomfrey say it’s a deep scratch?” Sirius asks, unable to contain his questions any longer. 

“No,” says Remus. “It’s just enough to be a nuisance.”

“That is my middle name, according to my family,” says Sirius. He sets down the parcel of food on Remus’ bedside table and climbs into bed beside him, careful not to jostle him. 

“It’s just fresh right now, that’s all,” says Remus. “I’ll heal.”

Sirius nods and then reaches out to brush his fingers along Remus’ cheek. Remus closes his eyes as Sirius’ hand drifts upward to card through his hair. They remain like that for a while and Sirius is sure that Remus has fallen asleep, but suddenly his eyes snap open again. 

“That felt really good,” he says. “I almost forgot how hungry I am, but not really.”

Sirius laughs and brings the food onto the bed. As Remus sits up and gingerly stretches his shoulder, Sirius carefully opens the parcel to inspect the contents. Professor Flitwick would be very proud of the sealing charm James performed on the napkin that held everything together. Besides the toast and danish, there’s a fried egg, some sausages, and a few grilled tomatoes. Remus leans forward and takes in a deep lungful of the delicious smell. 

“I dunno how he managed it, but the food is still warm,” Sirius remarks. “What’ll you have?”

Remus claims the fried egg and tomatoes, and Sirius lets him. He conjures two forks and they tuck in, Remus gobbling up his food so quickly that Sirius watches him for signs of choking. When he’s finished, Remus tears off one corner of the cherry danish and chews thoughtfully for a moment or two before realizing Sirius is staring at him. 

“What?” he says. “I was starving.”

Sirius shakes his head and tucks into a sausage. “Just standing by as emergency first aid.”

*************

Sirius has dozed off with his face nestled in the crook of Remus’ neck. Remus, wishing that he could find sleep himself, wonders how many times they’ve been in this exact position. It’s certainly more times than they’ve snogged or shagged, as those are new developments and Sirius has been falling asleep on Remus for years. This arrangement of their bodies is as familiar to Remus as a book he’s read until the pages are falling out. In fact, he’s likely read some of those old favorites with Sirius snoring in his ear. No wonder, he thinks, that their friendship spilled over into something more. He’d never been as physically close to anyone as he was to Sirius. What felt stilted and awkward with others came easily with Sirius.

The bed is comfortable, the curtains are drawn, and the sound of Sirius’ even breathing is soothing. He spent all night awake and running about the forest, and those moments of unconsciousness after transforming could never be counted as genuine rest. Despite all of this, Remus cannot quiet his mind enough to fall asleep. A nap would be utterly divine; he’s found the right position to lay back against his pillows without aggravating his shoulder, and the smuggled breakfast sits heavily in his stomach. But when he closes his eyes, his thoughts seem to run along his eyelids and demand his attention. 

_Sirius should be in class. McGonagall’s lesson is meant to be extra difficult today, though it’s always difficult, so what’s the difference? He shouldn’t be missing that, and James’ notes are always illegible. Why does he want to be here with me? I should be sleeping. And if I was, Sirius would be sitting here with nothing to do. What’s the point?_

On top of everything, Remus now needs to take a piss. He groans, curses the universe, and then begins his careful escape. He nearly makes it, but his shoulder sends a jolt of pain down his arm at the last moment, and he cries out, waking Sirius. 

“What?” says Sirius, staring around wildly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Fuck, bloody fuck,” Remus swears, clutching at his bicep. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I need the toilet, and I was trying not to disturb you.”

“Disturb me! It’s fine, I’m already plenty disturbed,” says Sirius, with a smirk. 

“Har har,” says Remus, though it’s immensely difficult to remain pissed off when Sirius is smirking at him like that. 

“Seriously, though, are you alright?” says Sirius. He’s up on his knees, studying Remus’ face and looking like an anxious mother hen. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” Remus insists. The pain is fading now, and his full bladder is taking precedence. “Back in a tick.”

Remus lingers in the loo after he’s finished, staring at himself in the mirror. His hair is like a bird’s nest and it occurs to him that he probably smells. He doesn’t have the energy to take a shower just now, but he does spare a moment to brush his teeth. When he’s minty fresh, he peels off his t-shirt and turns around, craning his neck back to get a look at the bandage on his shoulder. He can’t see any blood leaking through, so the pain was probably just the skin pulling. 

Before Remus has a chance to get his t-shirt back on, Sirius comes into the bathroom. The four of them share the space, so it’s common to be barged in on. Sirius stares at him for a moment, then gestures vaguely. 

“Can I see?” 

Remus wants to say no, but he knows that Sirius is just worried, so he turns around and lets his shoulder be inspected. Sirius doesn’t touch, just looks. After a moment, Remus turns back around and hates the look on Sirius’ face -- pity mixed with guilt. He decides to steer things in another direction. 

“Hey,” he says, pointing one finger toward his mouth. “I just brushed.”

That successfully defuses the situation. Sirius grins and takes a step toward him. Remus closes the gap and pulls Sirius into a kiss that goes deeper than he intended. At least his exhaustion is forgotten for the moment, with Sirius’ warm hands on his torso, playing dangerously close to the waistband of his trousers. 

When they break apart, Sirius is smiling up at him. “You look tired, love.”

Remus shrugs. “Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep. You were doing a fine job of it, but I guess my brain’s not in the mood.”

Sirius nods, worrying at his bottom lip. Then he raises his eyebrows. “Up for a walk?”

*************

Warmer weather has at long last made its way to Scotland, and Sirius is grateful that it’s a sunny day. As they walk across the front lawn of the castle, it’s clear they aren’t the only ones skiving off classes. Winter is oppressive when you spend it inside a drafty, old castle, so spring fever tends to hit the Hogwarts population fairly hard. Sirius sees Frank and Alice under a tree by the lake, and Marlene is lying in the grass by herself. Beside him, Remus walks with his shoulders slightly hunched. Sirius wants to tell him to stand up straight, but he remembers that one time when Remus snapped at him about posh etiquette bullshit and decides to keep quiet.

“Lots of people out today,” Remus remarks. “Not sure what I was expecting.”

“No one knows,” says Sirius, keeping his voice low. “To them, we’re just two more students avoiding class. How could they know?”

Remus nods, but Sirius knows he hasn’t managed to convince him. Remus’ mind seems to run at a speed no one can keep up with. Sirius tries to play keeper, whacking the doubts and insecurities out of the way before they reach the goal, but the thoughts only get trickier and more slippery. 

“You probably want to catch your afternoon classes,” says Remus, after a moment. “And you shouldn’t miss lunch.”

“Give me some credit, I just ate,” says Sirius, though he wouldn’t say no to about five more of those sausages James gave them. 

“Did James promise you his notes again?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’s diligently transcribing Flitwick’s lecture word for word right now.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Perhaps together we can decipher the coded squiggles and scratches that James calls handwriting.”

“He tries his best,” says Sirius, smirking. “Besides, it’s either that or try to make sense of the nonsense that Peter takes down.”

“He tries his best, too,” says Remus, who always seems to stick his neck out for Peter. When he defends him, Sirius is struck with the ugly urge to tell Remus that Peter was the most reluctant to undertake their Animagi venture. But he tamps that down because Remus doesn’t need to hear it. It wouldn’t be worth the hurt to disparage Peter. 

Remus pauses at the edge of the lake, so Sirius stops beside him. He can’t help but think this would be the perfect moment to take his hand. Who cares who might be looking? Who cares what they might say? Though these thoughts flash across his mind defiantly, they’re beaten back by the knowledge that Remus cares. He must, otherwise he would be the one to take Sirius’ hand for once. Sometimes he can’t help but resent that he’s always the one to start things -- he climbs into Remus’ bed, he takes Remus’ hand, he takes the cigarette out of Remus’ mouth and kisses him. But the resentment isn’t enough to keep him away. He settles for shifting his weight toward Remus so their hands brush together ever so slightly. Remus looks at him in surprise, but he doesn’t seem angry. 

“What are your plans for the summer?” Sirius asks, struck by the thought as he watches sunlight glint off the surface of the lake. 

Remus shrugs. “Nothing special, really. It may be our last chance to properly waste time, so I thought I’d do a bit of that.”

“You’re always welcome to join me and James,” says Sirius, trying to pass it off as a casual invitation, though he longs to take Remus tramping through the fields around James’ house. He spent the entirety of the previous summer wishing Remus was with him, and he didn’t want to waste another summer that way. If Remus wanted to waste time, surely they could do it together. 

Remus glances at him, an odd look in his eyes. “I think I should wait for an invitation from the Potters.”

“What? They’d love to have you,” says Sirius, because who wouldn’t love to have Remus around? “You’re good with parlor games, and you make a cracking good cup of tea. I know they’d love to have you.”

“Nevertheless,” says Remus, and he doesn’t elaborate. Sirius shifts away from him, removing their point of contact and regretting it instantly. 

Remus glances down at his watch, and Sirius sees him blush when he remembers that it doesn’t work here. He clears his throat and stretches his arms absentmindedly, grimacing as he shifts his left shoulder. Sirius reaches out instinctively and Remus shakes his head. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Come on, let’s walk.”

Sirius follows Remus away from the lake, wondering what’s making him so prickly. He knows that his temper flares up around the full moon (something he has learned not to mention), but this is a different kind of prickliness, and it’s been present for weeks. It could be something about the end of term, he muses, or perhaps it’s just the news. _The Daily Prophet_ has been printing more and more concerning articles about attacks on Muggles, and it’s getting hard to ignore. There are days when Sirius is consumed with an energy that nearly pushes him back to Grimmauld Place to yell and scream and fume at his parents about their ilk. Not that it would do any good, but it might make him feel better.

Of course there is one clear answer that he doesn’t want to entertain -- Remus is tired of Sirius. Everything seemed so natural during those first few fevered months spent pawing at each other at every possible moment. Now Sirius feels like Remus is pushing him away. Given that initial enthusiasm, he’s not sure why the sudden change of heart. Sirius tries to chalk it all up to a passing mood, but it’s becoming more difficult to ignore, much like the news. 

“If you’re hungry again, we can head back inside for lunch,” says Sirius. “It should be about now, or soon. We could grab something, say hi to James and Peter, and we can go back upstairs.”

“Do you really want to hide away all day?” Remus asks, hands in his pockets now. 

“I dunno if it’s hiding away,” says Sirius. “I’m keeping you company. If you’re not hungry, we can just go back to the dorm. I could give you a massage -- a gentle one, because of your shoulder -- and maybe you’ll fall asleep.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair. “You should go to your afternoon classes, don’t you think?”

Infuriated, Sirius stops walking. Remus walks a few paces ahead of him before he notices and turns around, a confused look on his face. 

“Okay,” says Sirius, holding out his arms. “I’m not stupid. That’s the millionth time you’ve said I should be somewhere else.”

Remus shakes his head. Sirius is glad to see he’s a bit flustered. “I just don’t want you to waste the whole day.”

“Shouldn’t that be up to me?” says Sirius. “Stop beating around the bush, all right? Just tell me to fuck off if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not,” says Remus, looking down at his shoes. “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, then why do you keep harping on about afternoon classes and not missing McGonagall’s really hard lecture?”

“I just don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to,” says Remus.

“I want to,” Sirius insists. “Don’t you think I want to? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but, why?” says Remus. “Don’t feel like you need to keep me company. I mean, this must be boring for you, just wandering around.”

Sirius gapes at him. “What the bloody fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing this out of any stupid obligation, I want to spend time with you, you tosser.”

Still Remus looks doubtful, eyeing Sirius carefully as though he’s searching for the lie. Sirius wonders -- is this the root of the problem? Is it just Remus telling himself that Sirius must be hanging around for some other reason, as though he’d drawn the short straw and had to keep Remus company after the full moon. How could Remus misread him so profoundly? What did he think this was all about?

“You’re driving me crazy, Moony,” he says, and strides past him, toward the edge of the forest. 

“Sirius? Sirius, come back. I just...I told you I’m all right, you don’t have to stay all day.”

“Stop it,” Sirius responds. “Just stop it.”

Remus follows him into the trees, where they’re out of view of anyone on the lawn. Sirius stops suddenly and whirls around, facing Remus just as he opens his mouth to say something else.

“Shut up,” he barks. “How can you think I wouldn’t want to spend time with you? What do you think the past few months have been about?”

Remus stares at him, mouth moving soundlessly as he tries to find the words to respond. Nothing comes, and Sirius can think of only one way to get his point across. He steps forward and pulls Remus into a kiss, hands on his neck, thumbs pressing at his jaw. Remus is caught off guard, but he responds after a moment, hands flat against Sirius’ back, pressing him close. Sirius hums against his lips, hoping that this is enough, willing Remus to understand. When Remus pulls back, they stay close. 

“You see?” says Sirius, pressing a smile against his neck. 

“I do,” says Remus, and he huffs out a breath. “I like snogging you, too, believe me. So it’s fine if that’s all this is.”

Sirius scoffs and pushes away from Remus. He stares at him, hair sticking up and clothes mussed. He looks adorable, and he’s so incredibly stupid.

*************

All at once, Remus is standing by himself at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, watching Sirius walk away from him, back toward the castle. He can still feel the imprint of Sirius’ lips against his own. He can’t understand why Sirius is angry with him for giving voice to what their relationship is. Surely he was getting tired of pretending, right? Remus stays rooted to the spot where he stands until Sirius disappears into the castle. Only then does he stuff his hands into his pockets and trudge away from the forest, wandering aimlessly.

With nowhere to go and no idea of the time, Remus finds himself at the Quidditch Pitch. He’s relieved to see that no teams are practicing, and he begins slowly climbing the stairs to the top of the stands. When he reaches the final row of seats, he plops down and gives his aching legs a rest. He’s not sure why he ended up here, but sitting at the top of the stands, looking down at the pitch fills him with a warm nostalgia for every afternoon he’s spent watching James and Sirius play. It’s bizarre to think that next year, at some point, he’ll watch his final Hogwarts Quidditch match. 

Remus’ body feels heavy, so he leans forward and drapes himself over the seat in front of him. The day after the full moon always leaves him feeling like he’s wearing an extra set of skin, like he needs to slough off the weight of the night before moving on. By the next morning, he’ll feel more like himself, but the intervening twenty-four hours never cease to frustrate him. Perhaps that’s why he’s being so short with Sirius. But if he digs deeper, he knows that’s not the case. 

Upset with himself and his brain, Remus lets out an exasperated sigh. It is, perhaps, a bit too dramatic, but he’s surprised when Marlene pops up from a seat a few rows away, looking perturbed. 

“Oi!” she says. “There’s only room for one mopey person here. Bugger off.”

With one final withering look, Marlene sinks back into her seat and out of view. Remus lets out a snort of laughter. He supposes he could just leave her there to mope and find his own spot. But her appearance was so unexpected, and now he’s curious why she’s moping. So he heaves his heavy body up and lopes down to where she’s sitting. 

“Hey,” he says, giving her a little wave.

Marlene glares up at him, but after a moment she sits up straight and gestures to the seat next to her. Remus takes it. 

“Why are you moping?” he asks. 

Marlene shakes her head. “Oh, no. You’re the one who disturbed my peace, you go first.”

“I think I’m in love,” says Remus, his mouth suddenly dry. “But I’m fairly certain the person I love doesn’t feel that way about me.”

Marlene tosses her head back and lets out a loud peal of laughter. Then she holds out her hand to Remus. “Sir, let me shake your hand, for you and I are afflicted with the same mopey disease.”

Chuckling, Remus shakes her hand. “Who are you in love with?”

“Nice try,” she says. “Who are _you_ in love with, then?”

Remus wishes he didn’t blush so easily. “I’d rather not say.”

“Right,” says Marlene, rolling her eyes. “As though we don’t all know.”

Remus lets go of her hand and stares out at the pitch. It is probably painfully obvious to anyone who knows them, and certainly everyone in Gryffindor Tower. Still, he doesn’t want to say it out loud. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be with Sirius -- far from it. It’s more that he’s embarrassed to name his own feelings, only to have them invalidated. 

“Why are you so sure this person doesn’t feel the same way?” 

“It’s just logic, really,” says Remus, shrugging. “I don’t see how they could.”

Marlene stares at him and then blows a noisy raspberry. “That’s bollocks. Have you even asked them? That seems like a good place to start.”

Remus squirms in his seat. “But I know what they’ll say. Better to keep things as they are right now, right?”

“What? With you moping in the stands of an empty Quidditch Pitch?”

“Well, fine, what makes you so sure? Have you asked your person?”

“Yes,” says Marlene, smiling grimly at him. “So maybe you’re better off than me, suffering in ignorance. I know for certain that my person isn’t interested, and it makes things quite a bit worse, let me tell you.”

“You see?” says Remus. “I may be moping, but at least I get to snog someone later on.”

Marlene squints at him for a moment, then shakes her head again. “I dunno, it still sounds like you’re stuck. I think you need to talk to this person.”

“Did I ask for your advice?”

“No.”

“Are you giving advice to avoid your own bad mood?”

“Indeed, I am,” she replies, grinning. 

“Well, it’s bad advice,” says Remus. “At least, it is for me. Go on, tell me about your problem. Did your mystery person completely shoot you down?”

“Well, she --” Marlene freezes and her cheeks turn pink to match her hair. “I mean, _this person_ says they’re not interested in people who are...my gender.”

“Ah,” says Remus, and now he knows who Marlene is pining after. She and Dorcas Meadowes are just as close as he and Sirius. Perhaps Marlene had reached a breaking point, when she could no longer continue as absurdly close friends. Remus knows from experience how difficult it is to maintain that balance when your body sparks with electricity every time the other person is around. He was lucky, he supposes, that Sirius returned his affections. 

“Yeah,” says Marlene. She chews at her bright pink thumbnail and stares into the distance, seemingly in deep contemplation of the hoops at the left side of the pitch. 

“Maybe she’ll come around,” Remus says, hesitantly. “Er, I mean, maybe this person will come around.”

“Oh, fuck it,” says Marlene, rolling her eyes and turning to face him again. “It’s Dorcas, alright? And I know perfectly well that you’re talking about Sirius. Why should we pretend?”

Remus swallows the shock of feeling that rises in his chest when Marlene says Sirius’ name. Again he feels his face grow red and hot, and there’s no point in denying it. So he shrugs and nods, and tries to ignore the smug look on Marlene’s face. 

“I knew it, he’s always been all over you,” she says, winking at him. “I dunno what you’re so worried about.”

“Marlene,” he says. “Look at the facts. Can you honestly say that you think Sirius Black would be interested in me?”

“He already is, dipshit.”

“Yeah, maybe for snogging in broom cupboards,” says Remus, crossing his arms over his chest.

Marlene gives him a skeptical look and repeats, “He’s _always_ been all over you. I mean, almost from the minute you arrived at Hogwarts. That boy’s got it bad.”

Remus snorts and shakes his head. “We’re friends, we’ve always been close friends. That doesn’t mean he...well, I just don’t see…”

Marlene shakes her head at him, and Remus’ words die in his throat. How can she be so sure of this when he doubts it so strongly? What does she see that he can’t seem to? 

After a moment or two, Marlene reaches out and claps her hand on Remus’ shoulder. “M’boy, I think you should talk to Sirius. If he says he doesn’t give two shits about you, then at least you know. But believe me, he’s not going to say that.”

*************

“Sirius, for fuck’s sake, just eat your dinner. I can’t stand the sight of you messing with it.”

Sirius makes a noncommittal noise, jams his fist more deeply into his own cheek, and swirls his mash with his gravy until it looks like mud. 

James groans and drops his own fork. “Come on, you’re putting me off my own food.”

“Sorry, mate,” says Sirius. “Just not that interested in food right now.”

“Yeah, I got that,” says James. “You weren’t very interested in Transfiguration either. So why don’t you tell me what happened with Moony?”

“Nothing. What makes you think something happened?”

“The only time you get like this is when Moony yells at you, or when he’s too sick to come with us to Hogsmeade, or that time when he had remedial Potions and was away one night a week,” says James. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Sirius is a bit annoyed that James can read him so easily, but he supposes that’s what he gets for spending so much time with the boy. At this point, James knows him better than anyone he shares a surname with. If he’s being honest, that’s a point of pride for him. Seeing as James already knows this is about Remus, Sirius decides to just tell him what’s going on. 

“We took a walk around the lake,” says Sirius. “It was nice until we got to the forest, and then -- bloody hell, Pete, I’m not about to tell a sexy story right here at the dinner table.”

Peter, who had been halfway to covering his ears, drops his hands, looking bashful. The entire Great Hall seems to have heard Sirius, and he can feel his cheeks burning. Great, he thinks -- just one more thing to add to the long list of things making him feel like a knob.

“Go on, go on,” says James, leaning forward on the table. 

Sirius sighs. “The long and short of it is that Remus obviously doesn’t like me the way I like him.”

There were many reactions to that statement that Sirius would class as “normal.” The way that James stares at him in disbelief and guffaws is not one of them. Sirius had been hoping for something closer to pity than hilarity, but there you are.

“Okay, okay,” says James. “We’re talking about the same Remus, right? You know he doesn’t suffer fools. If he didn’t like you, there’s no way he’d spend as much time with you as he does.”

“Fine, he likes me,” says Sirius. “We’re friends, obviously. But I, well...I feel more strongly than that.”

“Yes, we know,” says Peter, through a mouthful of potato. “It’s so bloody obvious from the way you look at him. And I’ve got news for you -- he looks at you the same way.”

Sirius is, frankly, stunned by the insight from Peter. Sure, it’s delivered through a mouthful of food, but it’s still stunning.

“Peter’s right,” says James. “Don’t _you_ see the way he looks at you? I mean, you’re the one he’s looking at, after all.”

Sirius picks up his fork and starts playing with his food again, much to James’ chagrin. “I dunno. Maybe I haven’t noticed? I just feel like I want it more than he does. I mean, he never wants to hold my hand. Why is that?”

James shrugs. “He’s a pretty private bloke.”

“Well I wish he wouldn’t be so private about this.”

“Sounds like something you should talk to him about.”

“Mmm,” says Sirius, knowing full well how that conversation would go. He’d gotten a preview of it down by the forest earlier that afternoon. Clearly, this was not something Remus wanted to discuss. 

“Well, you’ve gotta do something,” says James. “If only to get your appetite back. Because if I have to spend another meal watching you do _that_ , I may never eat again.”

“Ugh, fine,” says Sirius, dropping his fork. “I’ll leave you to it, then. If anyone wants me, I’ll be smoking in the Astronomy Tower.”

“By ‘anyone,’ he means Remus,” says Peter, and he and James begin to laugh. 

As Sirius strides away from their table, he flips them the bird.

*************

Halfway across the castle’s lawn, Remus glances down at his wrist. It’s a habit that he’s never been able to break, though the watch only displays 8:30 -- the time when the Hogwarts Express crosses into the magical bubble around the castle -- during his time at school. Time is always nebulous for Remus on the day after the full moon. He generally skips his classes, so there are no clear demarcations of the day. The sun is going down, though, so he assumes that dinner is being served in the Great Hall.

Evening is Remus’ favorite time to be in the castle because it reminds him of his friends. Even before he and Sirius spent their evenings finding secluded corners in which to snog, evenings meant the four of them staging pranks. It was fun to ruin a Slytherin’s day at any time, but it was especially fun to ruin their morning. They’d spent many evenings crammed under James’ Invisibility Cloak, setting up booby trap charms that would drench the Slytherins in green gloop as soon as they left their common room. 

Now, of course, it’s impossible not to think of Sirius while walking through a chilled, empty corridor of the castle. Remus is sure he’ll never forget the sense memory of a cold stone wall against his back, with Sirius’ warm hands making their way underneath his shirt. Sirius’ lips at his ear, whispering dirty words as his hands do even dirtier things. Remus remembers this now with a certain wistfulness, wondering if he’ll ever be in that position again after the way Sirius had stormed off. Great, he thinks, now Hogwarts will only remind him of heartbreak. 

Marlene was so sure about Sirius’ intentions, and it frustrates Remus that he doesn’t have that same certainty. As long as Remus has known him, Sirius has flirted with everyone. He flirts with James, he flirts with Lily, he flirts with McGonagall -- hell, he even flirts with Peter on occasion. That type of playful interaction is Sirius’ default mode. So when he flirted with Remus, Remus saw it as par for the course. When Sirius followed through on that flirting with some enthusiastic snogging, Remus was surprised. But now they’re stuck in the snogging phase; and that’s fine, he supposes, for some people. But he wants more. He has always wanted more with Sirius.

Dinner is still in full swing by the time he reaches the Great Hall, and Remus toys with the idea of sitting somewhere other than with his friends. He walks slowly across the flagstones, peering through the dim light of the candles above. Perhaps Lily has an open spot down at her end of the table. When he sees that Sirius is missing from their usual table, Remus breathes a sigh of relief and saunters up to James and Peter. 

“Well, hello,” says Peter, a knowing smirk on his face. “How was your day?”

Remus gives him a weird look. “Fine? How was yours?”

Peter shrugs. “Surprise quiz in Potions.”

Remus deflates. “You’re kidding. Did Slughorn mention anything about make-ups?”

Peter winces and shakes his head. “I bet you could talk to him, though. Slughorn’s all right.”

“He never seems very interested in helping me make up work,” says Remus, frowning. “Certainly can’t imagine why.”

James is very quiet beside him, and Remus wonders if it’s because he’s thinking back on all the times Slughorn has mentioned how brilliant Lily is, despite her blood status. But when he turns to him, Remus is met with a rather perturbed expression. 

“Ah, hello,” he says, uncertainly. “Has someone done something to your dinner?”

“You could say that,” says James, one eyebrow raised. “I had to watch a miserable Sirius mush his food around his plate, and now I don’t feel much like eating.”

“I’m...sorry?” says Remus, unsure of what this has to do with him. 

“You should be,” says James, pounding his fist on the table. 

“Right,” says Remus, inching away from him. “Pete? Would you like to let me in on the secret?”

Peter rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “Sirius is upset, obviously because you said something to him. But you’re in love, so you should both shut the hell up and snog or something.”

Remus freezes. He can feel his cheeks burning as a blush floods his face. After a moment, he finds his voice. “What right does he have to be upset, eh? He’s the one who stormed off and left me in the forest with no explanation.”

Peter shrugs. “I’m guessing he stormed off because you said something stupid. Anyway, that’s why James is mad at you.”

Remus is shocked at this sudden betrayal. He’s always done his best to be kind to Peter, especially when James and Sirius are having a go at him, and now Peter seems intent on taking him down a peg. Clearly Sirius had stopped in at the Great Hall before him, but what had he said to their friends? 

“That’s only half of it,” says James. “I just want to be sure of something -- are you leading him on?”

Remus splutters. “What? How can you even think…? Of course not! I hardly have Sirius, I can’t imagine having more than one romantic liaison on the go.”

“Good,” says James, his expression still deadly serious. “And you do have Sirius, completely. Trust me, mate, I know Sirius like he was my own brother. Plus he just told us that he’s in love with you.”

“Yeah, like just came out and said it,” says Peter, nodding and eating more potatoes. “But he doesn’t think you love him back.”

“So do you?” James asks, staring intently at him. 

Remus swallows hard. It’s one thing to have a casual chat with Marlene about romance and feelings. It’s far different to sit with your best mates and admit that you’re in love with your other best mate. Remus catches sight of Peter, who is cheerfully continuing to eat his dinner, nowhere near the edge of his seat waiting for Remus’ answer. He realizes -- they probably already know. James is only asking out of some protective streak he has toward Sirius. 

Finally, he nods. “Of course.”

“Right, then why doesn’t Sirius know that?” 

Remus squirms uncomfortably. “I...I didn’t think he felt that way about me. I didn’t want to complicate what we have going.”

“Which is lots of snogging,” says Peter, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. 

“Yes,” says Remus, wondering if his face will ever cool down. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean love. At least, not always, I don’t think. Oh, bollocks, I don’t know anymore.”

James sighs and lays a hand gently on Remus’ shoulder. “I understand, you don’t want to get hurt. I’m not telling you that you won’t get hurt, but I am telling you that I know how Sirius feels. No sense in wasting those feelings, even if you end up getting hurt down the road.”

Remus turns and stares at him. He wonders when Prongs got so wise and profound. Perhaps if he unleashes some of this newfound maturity on Lily he’ll actually have a chance with her. He opens his mouth to suggest this, but James claps him on the shoulder. 

“In short, stop acting like a wanker and tell him how you feel,” he says, then lets out a breath as a smile comes across his face. “God, it felt good to say that. I’m starving now, that did the trick. Hungry, Moony?”

“Not so much now,” says Remus, staring down at the table. 

“Well, go and have a chat with Sirius,” says James. “I reckon you’ll be ravenous afterward.”

*************

While the corridors of Hogwarts remind him of all his friends, the Astronomy Tower reminds Remus only of Sirius. Even before they were using it for late-night snogging sessions, the two of them sat up here smoking and talking on countless nights. At this point, Remus could no longer observe the night sky without smelling tobacco, or something stronger. They snuck up here well into autumn, only stopping when the first snow had settled on the castle. On cold nights, they huddled together for warmth, and that closeness slowly morphed into something. There were many points at which Remus could say he’d fallen in love with Sirius, but their time on the Astronomy Tower seemed particularly significant.

On this night, Remus smells the cigarettes before he sees Sirius leaning on the parapet, a dark shape against the bright waning moon in the sky. Remus hesitates, suddenly shy around the boy he’s known for six years. As he made his way up to the tower, he thought about what Marlene, James, and Peter had all told him. He’s still afraid, but he knows that James is right about one thing -- Sirius should know how he feels. Remus figures there’s no good way to get Sirius’ attention, and he’s about to clear his throat awkwardly when Sirius turns and spots him. 

“Hey,” he says, more pleasant surprise in his voice than anger. His cigarette dangles between the fingers on his left hand, smoke trailing away into the night. 

“Hey,” says Remus, grateful that Sirius hasn’t greeted him with a frown. “Nice night.”

Sirius nods, an amused expression creeping onto his face. “Lovely. Why did you come up here?”

Remus sighs. “I think we need to talk.”

Sirius brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag. When he speaks, the smoke leaves his mouth in puffs, like cold air on a winter’s day. “Yeah, because that went so well this afternoon.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that,” says Remus. “I’ve...people have been setting me straight all afternoon, let’s just say that.”

“Not too straight, I hope,” says Sirius, winking. At that, Remus lets out a chuckle, and some of the weight lifts off his chest. 

“First off,” Remus begins. “I...I like you, Sirius, rather a lot.”

Sirius quirks an eyebrow at him and takes another drag off his cigarette. He remains quiet, and Remus knows that he’s daring him to say what he actually feels. He’s pushing him to make this more real. Though he hates him for it, Remus knows he shouldn’t hold back, certainly not about this. 

“Right,” he says, at last. “I’m in love with you. Frighteningly so. That’s very hard for me to say, but there we are.”

After he has somehow pushed the words from his lips, Remus crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at his feet. If it were up to him, he would now dissolve into a gas and float away from the Astronomy Tower. Still Sirius doesn’t say anything, and the silence is slowly killing Remus, so he looks up. Sirius is smiling at him. 

“Why is it hard for you to say?” he asks. 

Remus chews on his bottom lip. “Because I’m afraid of getting hurt. I don’t know if you feel the same way, and even if you do…”

Sirius stubs out his cigarette on the stone parapet and takes a step closer to him. “Fine, let’s get one thing perfectly clear. I’m in love with you, too. Don’t know how you could have ever doubted that.”

“Maybe because you never said it out loud,” says Remus, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh, right,” says Sirius. He pushes his hair off his forehead to play for time. “Well, I guess I was a bit scared as well. Besides, I always get the feeling that you don’t want to talk about these things.”

“I don’t!” says Remus, laughing. “This is absolute bloody torture. But if we carry on like we were, I’m afraid our friends will follow us up here one night and throw us off the edge.”

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, head thrown back, shaggy hair shifting across his face. “I think you’re right.”

“So,” says Remus, knowing there are other things he could say, but still too afraid to take the plunge. “We love each other. Where do we go from here?”

Sirius smiles and steps up to him, hands reaching out to hold him around the waist. Remus thrills at the touch. “I think we make each other happy now.”

Remus can’t help but laugh again. Everyone thinks Sirius is so edgy, with his cool haircut and leather jacket, but he’s actually a sentimental old sap. “I don’t know how possible that will be. We don’t know what life is going to be like after graduation.”

“True,” Sirius concedes. “But we’ll have each other, eh? We’ll have our friends.”

“Perhaps if the world weren’t going to shit,” says Remus. “I would feel better about this whole thing. I mean, it’s clear from the _Prophet_ that the attacks are getting worse each day.”

“That’s precisely why we need to use the time we have now,” says Sirius. He shifts his hold on Remus to coax one of Remus’ hands out of his pocket. He intertwines their fingers and looks up at him. “And, well, if we’re saying things out loud tonight...I don’t want our relationship to be so hush-hush.”

Remus takes a deep breath. “Aren’t you worried what people might say?”

Sirius shakes his head. The response comes so quickly that Remus can’t imagine he’s thought about it at all, and he probably hasn’t. This is something Sirius knows in his bones. Remus feels a regretful ache in his chest, knowing that they should have talked about all of this much sooner. Have they lost time? Have they wasted precious months? 

“Sod ‘em,” he says, swaying slightly and holding Remus’ hand more tightly. Soon they’re sort of dancing around the tower, moving in little circles across the stones, and Remus can’t help but smile. 

“Here’s the thing,” says Sirius, as they move to and fro. “Don’t get mad, because I’m just being honest with you. I know, now, that you feel the same way I do. But if you don’t want to hold my hand or sit close to me in the common room, I’m going to feel like maybe you don’t care.”

“We get very close in private, though,” says Remus, cheekily. “Surely that should tell you all you need to know.”

“Remus,” he responds, warningly. “I rather think everyone knows already, don’t you?”

Remus sighs and leans his cheek against Sirius’ hair, thinking back to his conversation with Marlene. If she knows, and James and Peter certainly know, it’s likely that most of Gryffindor House at least have an inkling. The Slytherins will jeer at them if they see them holding hands in the corridor, but the Slytherins jeer at them anyway. 

“Okay,” says Remus. He stops moving, and Sirius follows his lead. “I will try. You’ll need to make the first move, but I...I won’t push you away.”

“It’s a start,” says Sirius.

“And I’ll open up to you more,” says Remus. If now’s the time to talk, he’d better seize the moment and force himself to say it all. “I feel like I just finished opening up to you as a friend when this happened, and now we have this whole new dynamic.”

“It’s exciting,” says Sirius, squeezing his hand. “I know you don’t see it that way, Mr. Dour, but I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel less scared about this.”

“Thank you,” says Remus. He reaches out to cup Sirius’ face in his hands. “This helps a lot, knowing how you feel.”

“It helps me too, to hear it from you. Just remember it’s always been there,” says Sirius. “The only new part is saying it out loud.”

Remus leans in to kiss him and Sirius loops his arms around Remus’ waist again, pulling him close. The kiss deepens, and when Remus pulls back he’s breathless. At first, Sirius is starry-eyed, staring at him with such adoration. Then his face falls, as though he’s just remembered something unpleasant. Remus frowns at him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“Does it...are you really annoyed when I hang around after the full moon?”

Finally, a question Remus doesn’t need to think about. He instantly shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. I just don’t want to be a bother to you.”

Sirius sighs, then takes both of Remus’ hands in his own and looks at him pointedly. “You are never a bother to me. We’ve established that I’m in love with you, so why would I be bothered by taking care of you?”

“It’s just...it must be annoying to miss a whole day of classes,” says Remus.

“I wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway,” says Sirius, shrugging. “If I went to class after the full moon, I’d just be thinking about you and wondering if you were all right. So, please, let me help you.”

Remus studies the expression on Sirius’ face, which is currently matching the homophone of his name. There’s something there -- the earnest glint in his eye, the way his mouth is set in determination -- that finally convinces him. Perhaps it was there before and he’s been blind to it, but Remus now sees the fervent feeling Sirius has for him. This is possibly scarier than when he wasn’t sure how Sirius felt. Now the stakes are raised, now they’ve declared their love. This is the part in the story when insurmountable obstacles rise up from the sea to test the young lovers. Remus is afraid, but now he believes Sirius can be his mooring in the storm. 

“All right,” he says, and he can tell Sirius is surprised by his acquiescence. 

“Well,” he says, grinning. “This is going rather swimmingly. Would now be a good time to bring up your plans for the summer again?”

Remus chuckles. “I need to go home, at least for a few weeks. But I’d love to come see you at James’ place after that.” 

Sirius’ grin grows, somehow, and lights up his whole face. “Excellent. The Potters are going to love you. I mean, I’m a bit biased, but I really think they will.” 

Remus is not sure what comes over him, and he decides to blame it on Sirius’ smile, but all of a sudden his mouth runs ahead of his brain. “You should come with me to Wales sometime, perhaps next summer.”

Sirius gapes at him, and Remus shrivels with embarrassment. Alarm bells are sounding in his head -- surely the invitation is premature. He may as well be signing a death warrant for their relationship. An invitation that far in advance practically screams “destroy these lovebirds” at the universe. Before his brain can go any further, however, Sirius pulls Remus into a kiss. The way his fingers play at the back of Remus’ neck makes his legs wobbly. 

“I would love to,” says Sirius, when he pulls away. 

Remus’ brain quiets down, if only for the moment, and he kisses Sirius again. The future may be unclear, but at least he knows what the next hour entails. He plans to push Sirius Black up against the parapet and snog the living daylights out of him.


End file.
